


In The Heat Of City Lights

by dahkani



Category: RWBY
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Fluff, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahkani/pseuds/dahkani
Summary: Inspired by the many posts I see on Tumblr about Qrow and Clover at the Atlesian ball. Enjoy!if ppl like it might do a chapter 2???
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 34
Kudos: 210





	1. In The Heat Of City Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Clover and Qrow at the Atlesian ball. Qrow is struggling with being alone at a party, especially the whole drinking part, and doesn't have his girls to help him out. Luckily, he has the ever watchful Clover.

In the heat of city lights, Qrow often felt suffocated. It was not, and perhaps never would be, his home. He'd grown surviving off whatever he foraged and found in woods and corpses - animals and bandits alike. He had found strength in the eyes of his sister when his knees would no longer carry him. He had sought solace in birdsong in the treetops; once a sign that things would be alright. And in a place as stifling as this, so starkly different to all he had once called home, in foreign company with scathing eyes that so often judged him unworthy? 

How could a place like this ever feel like home to a man at odds with every decision its builders made? 

It made him feel bad. How his skin itched and ached for a chance to fly. Even now, as he sat near a table in the corner, he eyed the windows. What would he give to leave it all behind? But all it took to center him again was a glance at his nieces, sharing a childish dance and reveling in their youth. Older now, sure, he thought - but young all the same. Yang's eyes were overflowing with happiness where, a month or two back, Qrow had seen only anger and bitter intent. A thirst for revenge, and how her lips always formed his name, keeping it fresh in her mind as she gripped her metallic arm like it was the very vendetta she was holding. He wasn't stupid enough to tell her to drop it; in fact, he regretted not knowing how to drag him kicking and screaming to her. But she'd never accept it. She wanted to overcome it on her own, and she did; and she met Blake, and the two had triumphed, his reign nevermore. Even now he remembered her tearful confession to him, in almost grim detail. He'd held her then, and stroked her golden hair, and told her that she had done the right thing. That he was proud of her.

Ruby was twirling underneath her, just as mature - perhaps more mature, even - yet still her smaller partner in crime. He'd delight in seeing their shared lights reunite if he wasn't secretly terrified their reign of pranks would return anew, stronger with their combined smarts. More like her mother than ever yet undoubtedly her own. A spirit that never gave up and like a beacon of shining hope rallied all others to her sparkling silver light. He'd felt terror at seeing her silver eyes, once. Knew what it meant. Perhaps she'd noticed the way he looked at her had changed, too. He gave in to all her demands, of how to be as strong as he was, a scythe just as sharp.

She had to have the best chance possible of surviving. And if Qrow couldn't be there all his life to battle off any assailant Salem sent her way, she had to be ready. She had to be. If she wasn't, he had no clue what he'd do. He worried about Yang, of course; but she was a flame that only burned brighter the more you tried to snuff it out. And if she were a blazing wildfire, Ruby was the shadow that light cast. Small, frail, clinging to her sister... and yet with a shared thirst for something greater that Qrow and Tai had knowingly fostered. The world needed her, and she couldn't be caught with her foot out of line. Neither of them would carry her home. Perhaps it was a little bit selfish, too. Neither of them quite willing to part ways with their remnant of Summer. Perhaps it was fear. Summer had been the strongest and best of them; if she had fell, what hope did any of them have?

Maybe her descendant was their only hope. 

Heh, look at him. He'd really been trying to grow out of his bad habit of comparing his nieces to their mothers. The difference between Raven and Yang was proof enough. 

He snapped himself away from his thoughts, focusing himself on the room in front of him. His nieces had vanished, for one thing. How hard could it be to find a girl with hair brighter than any light in the room? Apparently, very. On one side of the room, he saw the Ace Operatives; Marrow's tail subtly wagging as always. Funny for them to be together, he wondered. Clearly this was formal enough to require it. But where was Clover, the very head of the team? 

...Well, that was just none of his concern.

Opposite the room from him, he saw Weiss and Blake; the two looking off to the side, both laughing and shamelessly encouraging the others sharp tongue and sarcastic yet well meant jokes. Their target, an exasperated Ren and ravenous Nora who simultaneously had the cooks rushing to replenish what she so readily consumed, and blushing at the compliments she so readily bestowed. Even the dancefloor wasn't quite safe from her tyranny, and it was a testament to their relationship that Ren's feet never once tripped no matter how hard Nora tried to catch him off guard with something he couldn't possibly see coming. He scanned the ballroom, awash in a pale blue glow that felt something like the glow of an aquarium. Gold and purple lights dotted the air, an ethereal finish befitting of the heavenly utopia Atlas tried so hard to be. And now Qrow needed something to take his mind off the politics he was concerning himself with on such a nice night, and so he stared at Jaune and Oscar muttering apology after apology to the bewildered staff on behalf of Nora. He choked back a laugh at Winter and Ironwood, standing stiff as robots, Penny by their side; it was obvious she was bursting with energy and silently begging for the go-ahead from her superiors to enjoy her night. Not yet, apparently. There were still a few flashing cameras. 

He rose a glass to his lips and stopped. He glanced at it, swirled it around and even took a sniff. It smelled like home in a sea of unfamiliarity, yet when he tried to bring it to his lips, he almost dropped the glass. He'd been allowed one light drink. A drink that the old Qrow would tease others for and say he could give a bottle of to his seven year old niece and she'd be fine. Now it seemed like the purest poison he'd ever smelled, and to taste it even once would be too much. He didn't need to see Ruby's disappointed eyes again. Just once would last him his whole life. But compared to those who ran when things got tough, Ruby's insistence on sticking around as long as she could was refreshing, if a constant weight on his shoulders - but a good one, forcing him to be better.

A pat on his shoulder. A yelp wrestled from his mouth. The sound of glass slipping from his fingers, ashamed to be caught red handed, eager to explain, smashing and spilling --.

"Woah, woah!" Clover chuckled, glancing at the mess they had made - and took the chance to let his eyes rake Qrow's body, now that he was closer. "Good thing none of it got on you, eh?"  
  
"Bad thing I dropped it at all." Qrow grimaced. What an embarrassment. Already people stared at him, wondering what was going on. Diligent workers had cleaned it up in no time with the efficacy one would expect from Atlas, yet the sting of shame was stubbornly refusing to leave him be.

"My fault for frightening you."

"My fault for being frightened," Qrow countered. Clover raised an eyebrow at that, the glimmer of something two steps away from annoyance in his eyes.

"It's always your fault one way or another, isn't it?" Clover said; and at that challenge, Qrow at least had the sense to snap his mouth shut.

"What do you want, anyway? Shouldn't you be with your team rather than bothering me?" He asked, genuinely curious what had brought the resident boy scout over to him. Even if he enjoyed Clover's company, he could never shake the habits he'd grown up on and that time only proved right. Always be on your guard.

And to his credit, Clover never ran away from a challenge. He seemed to love peeling away those walls. 

"I was given the all clear to start enjoying my night however I want," Clover explained, relaxing in a chair he had pulled over to sit by him. "And I noticed you didn't seem to be enjoying yours."

That warranted a snort from Qrow. "You sure do keep a close eye on me." For Ironwood?  
  
"Just looking out for a friend."

Qrow wasn't sure what to say to that. Clover was a difficult one to shut down. All his normal tricks and tactics had been shut down effortlessly by him. Most people ran away just from his semblance alone. Why was he so stubborn? It was maddening. Lucky leader Clover with his perfect teeth and stupid weapon and gorgeously green eyes.

"Not drinking?" Qrow tried, a neat way to change the topic. Clover eyed him, a raised eyebrow as though he considered it odd. He pressed on all the same as though humouring the other man.

"Just wait until you see what happens to Marrow. Then you'll understand."

Qrow chuckled, and instinctively went to raise a glass to his lips - and when he noticed there was no glass to raise, it fell awkwardly to his side. "Caretaker duty, huh?"

Now it was Clover's turn to laugh. "Someone has to."

"I'm surprised. I didn't think friendship was the Ace Op's manifesto." Qrow said, no amount of sarcasm and light-hearted tone disguising the attack within. Clover almost looked hurt in response, yet kept it in check. Always professional.

"They may not view us all as friends. Yes, our relationship may be professional by nature. But a good leader can't view his teammates as just sheep that will follow him. A good leader needs to appeal to them and understand them. So while I can't change their opinions on each other..." Clover leaned in and gestured towards the Ace Operatives; splitting up and going their separate ways without a second glance back or much of a word. "...I can still keep a close eye on them and step in if they need it."

"Well then aren't you just perfect," Qrow spat, and neither of them were convinced it was an insult to Clover. And Qrow had to shy his eyes away and not look at those warm verdant eyes judging him -- no, not judging him. There was none of the cold judgement of Atlas. It was warmth and understanding, in a way that reminded him of Taiyang, of Ruby, of Yang. Of family. But maybe just a little deeper. That look was not the glare of judgement but compassion and understanding, soft and healing, and a desire to understand and help. And Qrow was growing too old, too wise, and too mature to rue others for their own skills and fortunes. Clover was a good influence like that. Pity parties just didn't fly.

"I think I need some air," Qrow said, desperate for an escape. He moved too fast and decisively for Clover to speak a word of rejection, and found himself in the biting winds of the Atlas air once again. Clearly he'd been with Clover long enough for his semblance to rub off on him; there was nobody on the balcony. Just him alone with his thoughts, the pounding drum of the music muffled by chatter and walls and howling gales. He considered flying away with the breeze, toying at the threads of his suit. A fancy outfit wasted on a night he spent on pity. Every word he said was replaying in his head, and he needed a drink, but he couldn't -- why did he think he could handle a party of all things? He felt like he was going to go insane, and neither Ruby nor Yang were here to balance him. He'd disappoint them, and they'd find him on the stool of some cheap bar passed out, barely hanging on and slick with sweat and alcohol. Where were they?

Footsteps. He'd have faced them if he had the strength. If he were lucky, maybe it was someone who had no idea who he was, and the two would pass the time together in blissful silence until one headed back inside to face the music, and end their respite.

"I brought you a drink," Clover said, holding a glass of water out to him. With hardly a word of neither pride nor thanks Qrow took it and drank from it like it were a holy chalice. "You're thinking."

"Most people do." Qrow continued to face away from Clover, overlooking the harsh blue lights of the Atlesian kingdom, an empire of frigid professionalism.

"Perhaps not to the same extent, though," Clover reasoned. "What's going on?"

Qrow stopped and thought. What a difficult question to answer. Just thinking of any answer made tears well up in his eyes while his voice went raw, and his skin crawled and his hair stood on end, and he felt like he was going to throw up and the world was just too bright and too loud and too much --.

He felt a hand on his shoulder again, and jumped. But this time, with no glass to drop or scathing eyes, he found comfort at the touch of another where once was fear. And he realized what he had always known. That it was the same demons every time; the same fear of failure; of harming those he loved; a refusal to get close or lower his walls. The loneliness was killing him. The kids were great, but they were kids - too young to be his peers. As wise as they were, there were things they hadn't yet experienced, and fears they hadn't fully realized. And he had lived his whole life in fear of his semblance, and of how all those around him were doomed to neverending misfortune. Yet here comes a knight in shining armour, suffocatingly perfect, and rather than feeling hatred for being everything he couldn't be, they were not two men fighting for the same spot; they were two equals who slotted into each other perfectly, with neither of them even noticing how close they had gotten until Qrow snapped to reality to find himself in Clover's careful arms, a single tear down his cheek onto Clover's chest, and soothing words uttered into his ear. He was OK. He was not cursed. He would get better.

And so they stood. Like two frozen in time or awaiting an end that wouldn't quite arrive. And for just that one moment, they were at peace, with the dancers in the windows behind them glimmering like shooting stars in the night sky, passing each other by as they watched. And as they stood there, stuck in a moment fated to end as all things would, they both silently agreed to treasure and remember it forever.

In the heat of city lights, Qrow found peace that had eluded him for so long, and found that all the fears in his mind had been silenced. In the warmth of another more illfated than he, Clover found everything his perfect life had once been missing, and found an equal who truly saw and admired him for everything he was and all his talents and prowess and charm -- more than just a semblance. So when Qrow had calmed and stood up straight again, and the wind softly carressed their bodies and urged them to move, they both took the first step the same time and laughed in joyous triumph. Without a hint of trouble and natural harmony, they fall into step with each other, waltzing around the glowing balcony. In the heat of city lights, they found each other.


	2. The Most Human Of Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Clover chapter I guess? Not that pleased with it, but hey ho. I wanted to write something, at least. To mirror the differences between them, Clover's chapter has a more heavy emphasis on communication and dialogue. And I struggle with dialogue because people don't just spew fucking prose when they speak and I have a tendancy to do... exactly that! But please enjoy this short continuation, this time featuring Clover's internal struggles with his 'perfect' life that just seems to be missing something.
> 
> If I do a chapter 3, it'll be way more light hearted after all this angst, probs a date night, but this was never meant to be an actual story, so I'm playing it by ear. Maybe just consider it a slightly-connected series of independent stories about Fair Game! Or just consider it a story I don't fucking know. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ' and at least i understood then the hunger i felt  
> and i didn't have to call it loneliness '

There was a dent in Clover's bed. His hands traced its outline as he stared straight ahead. He was reluctant to move. He was scared to ruin it. Memories were floating around in the air and in his head. It was as though he were trapped behind a sheet of glass, watching his own thoughts pass him by like ships in the night or fish in the sea. It felt surreal and delicate, as though made of frost and glass, and any outstretched hand for a warm embrace would melt it in his fingertips and cast the dream away. It was a childish wish to cling to a passing moment, like trying to remember a dream you'd already forgotten. At least, while it would surely pass, he would remember it.

Clover had let him leave without a fight. He'd pretended to sleep as Qrow slipped out of his arms and left. There was no fear of a goodbye; Qrow was better than that. Yet Clover regretted sizing him up and falling into him so easily. He knew better than anyone that Qrow needed space and was terrible at asking for it. It showed in how he always slipped out of sight when others celebrated. He stayed as long as he was needed, and he had grown accustomed to only being needed to fight. Only being needed when things were bad.

So for someone like Clover, who needed him even when things were good, it was torture.

What a strange feeling it was, he mused. It had followed him like a black dog in the dead of night. It lurked within pitch-black alleyways and fed off whatever scraps it could find. Even in a life graced by Lady Luck herself, there were things luck was powerless to stop. No amount of fortune could bring back the dead. And while Clover was lucky enough still to avoid tragedies like those, there were things missing. It was a problem many dealt with. Everyone knows one day, at any moment, their light could be snuffed out - and death was a fate far kinder than a life lived with a broken heart. Yet even still there were those shining few who knew of the dark and ominous fate we all march to. And as they marched towards that dark, dreary end... they did not hide their light out of fear of losing it. They burned brightly not in blissful ignorance but in open defiance of the somber fate we all share in our hearts. To flicker is to lose hope, and to lose hope is to lay still and accept that fate worse than death.

Clover had to stay strong. For his team, even if they couldn't care less about him. For his kingdom, even as it stifled him. For Mantle, even as it hated him.

For Qrow, even as he left him.

\-- ♣

Qrow had been avoiding him. It hurt more than he'd care to admit. Every time Clover's eyes glanced to the side, hopeful he'd catch Qrow doing the same, the man was staring straight ahead, as cold and lifeless as Atlas itself. He took flight at the slightest disturbance, and seemed reluctant to speak even a single word. This was more like the man in the stories he'd been fed and scoffed at. But that wasn't the Qrow he knew. Where had he gone? Why was he hiding?

He'll come back soon, Clover reasoned. He just needed some space. Who was he to clip the wings of a bird so beautiful and demand he stay, just because he was too weak to stand on his own sometimes? Clover had gone all his life standing alone. He could go a day more. What was one more crack in a fractured glass?

He wasn't good at hiding it, though. People were talking and people were asking what was wrong. They never could pin down exactly what was wrong, though; just shrug and say he seemed different these days. It should've been obvious to anyone who cared to read between the lines. But that wasn't how Atlas did things. Everything was done with the cold professionalism he had come to expect and adhere to, with none of his warm smiles or flirtatious comments ever finding their mark. A lust for companionship, for warmth, for a breath of fresh air in a city so clean it felt polluted. It marked every step he took and every action he made. He kept himself strong, telling himself how he'd change Atlas and Mantle in time. He just had to climb the ladder; gather power; make connections. How long would that take? By the time you get the power you need, you're too high to even reach the people you tried so hard for. With each passing day more was demanded from him. He had to stand tall for everyone who needed him. He couldn't fail. He couldn't fail his kingdom. Everything would fall into place soon. He just had to carry on.

He loved his kingdom. He respected General Ironwood. He wanted to believe they were making the world a better place... they just needed more time. Everyone would see that their goals and achievements more than made up for every questionable choice they had to make. To lose faith in that would be to flicker. To lose faith in that would be a fate worse than death.

But without Qrow, today was just another day he had lived through too many times. He couldn’t wallow in his thoughts even a second longer. It was time to act.

\-- ♣

“Hard day at work?” Clover asked with a voice as warm as he could make it. He carried two cups of hot chocolate - something of a delicacy - and let himself into Qrow’s room. “Ironwood sure has faith in you if he’s willing to send you out alone like that.”

Qrow jumped up in shock. He had been sitting by the window, curtains open, and gazing up at the sky. Stars littered the velvet black backdrop of the night sky like glitter thrown carelessly by a child, hoping it would stick. It was a habit Clover noticed he did a lot. When feeling overwhelmed or lost, he would gaze up at the sky like it were a map he was destined to follow. Like it held every answer written within, but in a language that nobody understood. So close and yet so far.

As he sat there, too surprised to scowl, Clover felt a rush of pure emotion when he looked at him, bathing in the cool blue light as if it were the sea, carrying him away to distant lands. 

By watching Qrow, Clover saw himself. 

“Something like that,” he said, with not enough bite left in him to reject the drink. “Seems you’re always taking care of me.” There was a bitterness within that sound.

“It doesn’t bother me, you know,” Clover replied. And it was true. He’d give him everything he wanted and needed at the drop of a pin. All he had to do was ask.

“That’s the bad part.”

Silence fell. It was a way of ignoring the weight of what felt like the world hanging between them. The silence was suffocating, the pressure too much; yet pressure is how diamonds form. Qrow was slipping away, down a dark path. And worse still, he believed he was doing the right thing.

It was Qrow who broke the silence. He couldn’t stand Clover’s eyes. They were filled with so much kindness he shied away from. How could he ever be worth it?

“One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed because you’ll be too busy watching my back rather than your own.” 

“With you by my side? I don’t think you’d let that happen.”

Qrow’s grip on his drink tightened and he looked away in frustration and shame. “How can you say that? You barely know me.” 

“Correction. I haven’t known you for very long, but I definitely know you,” Clover said, leaning forward in his chair. “I know you’re a valuable asset to any team you’re on. I know you’ve got a sharp mind that works quick. I know you’ve got a sixth sense for all sorts of trouble, and I know you’re afraid you’re responsible for every bad thing that happens. How can you know for sure you aren’t, right?”

Qrow had no response to that, but his cheeks burned red. “When you say fears aloud, they always sound stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Qrow,” Clover said. It baffled Clover. How could Qrow not see the good he did? How much those around him relied on him? He was scared of shadows he could easily eradicate… if he’d only burn as brightly as he did when Clover saw him smile. “But you’ve got to let it go. You can’t blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for not being perfect.”

“Easy for you to say, with how perfect you’ve got things.” Qrow snarled. It was frustration he’d held in for so long, aimed at himself and all the kingdom around him. “Head of the Ace Ops, safe and sound in Atlas, a Semblance people like me would kill to have. Not everyone gets dealt the same hand as you. So maybe you can realize why people like me can’t just ‘let things go’ like you can.”

“It’s always easier said than done. I won’t deny that,” Clover sighed. “But you need to stop running from this. You won’t fix anything if you carry on the way you’re going. It’s a lonely path.”

Qrow snorted at that, with a sadness hidden within his eyes. “Look at us now. Look at what happened. I hurt you already. The people I care about are better off without someone like me hanging around.”

“I don’t think they’re better off at all,” Clover said quietly. And Qrow glanced at him with an eyebrow raised and a look of shock. “You certainly never hurt me.”

“...What do you mean?”

Clover took a deep breath and steadied himself. He looked up and almost faltered, seeing compassion in Qrow’s eyes that warmed his soul. He felt safer than ever before.

“Here in Atlas, what do people see when they see me? A symbol of good luck. A leader of the Ace Ops. A perfect paragon of a knight.” Clover said, his voice unnaturally still in a practiced tone. “Here in Atlas, there’s a pursuit for a higher truth, and a greater order. But in such desperate times, there’s so much pressure on me - and so many others - to be the perfect selves we worked so hard to be. There’s no place for weakness, or doubt, or hesitation.

“When I met you, you were someone who didn’t care about any of that. You never shut up about how much you hate this place,” Clover teased, a fond warmth dripping back into his voice like honey. “And it was freeing to finally be seen as me. My Semblance can feel like it defines me, too. Sometimes any good thing I do is just luck rather than a result of any work or talent from me. Like if it weren’t for my Semblance, I could be anyone at all. You work in spite of that. You define your own power. You compete with the strongest, even with a Semblance that works against you just as much as it helps you.

“You show me that I can one day get out of my own shadow. When you’re around, I feel I have an equal - not someone lower or higher than me. Someone who sees me for all my good and my bad, and someone strong enough to stand on his own, even if I were to fail.” Clover hadn’t even noticed a tear dripping down his face, until Qrow leaned forward to wipe it away. He didn’t even need to say anything. His presence was enough, and it was obvious he understood. How could he not? The two were cut from the same cloth.

Clover’s tone had finally broken. His body relaxed in his chair as he let himself fall to pieces; unaware of how much he had been holding in. When you’ve held it for so long, you forget it was ever even there. Like sunlight bursting onto a night sky, spilling like paint, his emotions fell out of him and unto the world around him, a triumphant reclamation. And Qrow held him as Clover had once held him, and smoothed his hair and was simply there. And that was enough.

“I’m sorry,” Qrow whispered, voice barely audible. He sounded wracked with sorrow, yet love carried him forward rather than backward. He was fighting the urge to run as he always did. To truly overcome his demons he was so afraid of. “At the ball, I thought I would be ready. But seeing everyone so happy, and how close I came to drinking again… I got scared. Scared that I hadn’t changed at all and I was just pretending to. I didn’t want to hurt you. So I ran from it and said it was for your sake.” He stared down at his half-empty cup, gazing at his reflection.

“I don’t care about that,” Clover said, with steel-like resolve. He gripped Qrow’s chin and tipped his gaze upwards, so Qrow could tell from the intensity burning in his eyes he meant every word he said. “I don’t care that you’re not perfect. I don’t care if you make mistakes. I care that you’re here and we can do something about them together because I’m better when you’re around me.”

A pause.

“Please, Qrow. I need you.” It was the honest truth, and nothing but it. It was like life had finally spilled its secrets to him, and he’d learned of all that he had once been missing. He finally knew what it was he had been hungering for all his life. It felt as though he had finally found a place worthy of calling home. It was the most human and animalistic of all desires; to hunt for love. To look for heaven in the eyes of another, to find peace in their arms, and to find salvation in their love. It was all that he had never truly had. He couldn’t lose it.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shameless tumblr plug https://dahkani.tumblr.com/ :flushed:

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE CHECK OUT MY TUMBLR AND HELP ME THEY THINK IM A SPAM BOT BCOS I TALK TOO MUCH ;_;
> 
> https://dahkani.tumblr.com/
> 
> OH, AND I'LL POST ALL MY FICS ND UPDATES THERE TOO ND MAYBE SOME SHORT ONE-OFF THINGS AND ALL MY GREAT MUSIC SO REALLY IT'S PRETTY COOL...


End file.
